


infinity doesn't mean shit

by AirFireWaterEarth



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, M/M, groundhog day/ russian doll/ happy death day kinda plot, hopefully gets more light hearted later on, starts off a little angsty tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 22:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirFireWaterEarth/pseuds/AirFireWaterEarth
Summary: Infinity is a hypothetical amount representing the possibility of a number without limits. Its symbol is a figure eight, one without a real end or start.Life is not infinite. There is an absolute beginning and an absolute end. Death is the only thing truly infinite. At least, that was what Saruhiko thought.Killing oneself does wonders for the perspective.





	infinity doesn't mean shit

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a short start to this, but it was mostly just an idea floating and bouncing around my head like a tv screen saver and that's what that looks like materialized.

Saruhiko blinked awake, lifting his face off the keyboard. He lazily woke up the screen to reveal that it was Monday February 18th, 5:43 A.M.

So he took a ten minute power nap. 

Oh well. It wasn’t like he’d intended to get any sleep anyway, considering he was in the common area for miscellaneous work. Including his report on his newest strain. He wasn’t anything special, just a mild time manipulant. The name sounded special but all this guy could do was freeze time for a second or two, making him more of a weak teleporter than anything. Still, he was tricky to catch and had yet to be apprehended. After he finished the report on yesterday (or was it two days now?) he could go back out and finally conclude the case. 

This wasn’t what was promised. . 

Saruhiko didn’t hate these new people. His coworkers were more quiet than his last and his superiors were constantly drunk at odd times of the week. Still, it wasn’t what he wanted. Saruhiko had wanted one thing. One single thing and he couldn’t have it. 

Scepter 4 was filled to the brim with strain related issues. It was like that— either so dull that the paperwork was the most exciting part of the day or so busy he wished paperwork was a problem. Saruhiko hadn’t slept in a few days and he honestly rathered it that way. He knew, logically, that not sleeping and the reasons behind it interfered with his work and that his overly nosy boss would look into it the second the opportunity presented itself (he was already doing so in his own passive aggressive way). Yet Saruhiko was slowly caring less and less. And he already cared very little. 

After typing the last line, Saruhiko sent it to the archives to get processed and sent his draft and a request to proceed on the mission to Munakata before finally getting up to stretch. He decided it was probably a good idea to get another coffee from the vending machine. Saruhiko also decided it was a good idea to get rid of the other five coffee cans on his surrounding work space. He pulled over the trash can and swiped the cans into it before tossing the bin back into its corner. Then he was in the hallway pressing the same numbers he always did to get his lone source of energy. 

His waiting overlapped with the moment Awashima walked through the hallway. She stopped and looked at him disapprovingly.

“Caffeine cannot sufficiently replace sleep. Please try a little harder to get to bed tonight, Fushimi.”

Saruhiko would have considered it judgemental had they not been meeting in a similar way for the past few days. He simply nodded and retrieved his can, but when he still felt her standing there, he turned to face her.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to pretend that he had an ounce of respect towards whatever she was about to say.

Awashima sighed and handed him a bottle of pills.

“I wouldn’t normally recommend this, but if this is what it takes to get you to sleep, I ask you to consider.”

Saruhiko blinked at her before slowly nodding and pocketing them, making his way back to where his laptop and hopefully an approval for his mission was waiting.

—

He hadn’t gotten a confirmation until that afternoon. Saruhiko had it was done strategically, in order to leave some time for a nap or breakfast or whatever they believed he needed because apparently when he signed up to be part of a police force he signed up to be treated like a child. He guessed it was what he got for being the youngest member. 

Saruhiko sat in the car, waiting for the strain to leave the music hall. The time manipulator was a janitor there or he at least had been for the past few days. He’d quit his last job since getting caught by Scepter 4’s forces (or more specifically Saruhiko) but he finally showed up again in the workforce. 

Saruhiko kept note of most of the places that paid under the table, as they usually harbored the most strains. And nannies. A surprising amount of nannies. After doing a little research, Saruhiko had managed to find out that the strain was working here.

It was silent in the car. He very rarely took a partner anywhere. He didn’t need them being nosy. Asking about his young age or lack of friendliness. Saruhiko especially hated it considering it was a pale comparison to the one person he truly considered a partner. Mostly someone he once considered a partner. Saruhiko scratched at a burnt section of skin, barely even flinching at the irritation. He focused on his breathing because now was a bad time to get sucked into his vortex of memories. 

Saving him from his self-inflicted torture was the time manipulant strain, leaving slightly late to his lunch. Well, Saruhiko was about to make his day even shittier. Saruhiko grabbed his sword and fastened the sheath around his waist before getting out of the car and crossing the street. 

The strain hadn’t noticed his presence until he was mid bite in his sandwich. The strain’s eyes widened and he dropped the sandwich before jumping behind the bench.

“You again!” the strain yelled.

Saruhiko shrugged and smirked.

“It’s what happens when you keep running. Someone comes to catch you.”

Saruhiko threw a knife but the strain blipped away from it.

“Well, there was a reason you lost me in the first place, huh?”

Saruhiko narrowed his eyes. He threw a few more, aiming for the last injury he inflicted during their last meeting. It was a surface wound on the upper arm. Nothing that would give him a leg up, mostly just to be petty. 

One of the knives succeeded. Saruhiko had plenty of time to study how the strain moved. Not only how quickly, but where. Somewhere easy to get to when having to decide within a few seconds. No more than a foot away, more to the right than the left, more backward than forward.

The strain sneered and his escape became much more messy and emotion filled.

Some things were just easy to anticipate. 

The time manipulant was finally apprehended (unfortunately at sword point, which was much more paperwork). The strain, handcuffed and angry, spat at Saruhiko.

“I hope this gives you some sort of life ‘cause you’re a loser. A loser that’s trying to find some sorta purpose in life.”

Saruhiko dug the blunt end of of his sword into the strain’s back harder than necessary.

“Big words from a thief.”

Big words. 

But probably not untrue.

—

His steps tapped loudly in the quiet hallway. It was nearly four A.M. and he was going back to his room for the first time in a very long while. Everyone who would have marveled at the sight were fast asleep. Saruhiko briefly basked in the silence and took a deep breath before going into his room.

The mostly unfurnished room was solely inhabited by him. It wasn’t anything special, a simple cookie cutter lay out. There was a night stand and a bunk bed on the left hand side. The small kitchenette on the right had a microwave, mini refrigerator, and an outlet presumably for some sort of self purchased hot plate or rice cooker. Saruhiko barely used the appliances on the left, let alone the right so the fridge was especially vacant save for some coffees he stocked up on just in case. 

The problem with this lackluster room was that he once lived somewhere much less lackluster. A place with a lot more light and promise. A place that— no matter how much he wanted to— Saruhiko could never ever get again. The blank walls of this place only echoed those memories. There were some days where he would talk to an empty bottom bunk because he forgot he had no one to talk to. 

Saruhiko would like to say he felt duped, but that would be a lie. This wasn’t what he was promised, but if it wasn’t what he expected, deep deep down, he’d be lying. Yata Misaki was a glitch. A beautiful, wonderful glitch. That was it. Saruhiko was programed to be alone and bitter and Yata Misaki was a glitch he’d never wanted— and never be able to— fix. Even now that this glitch has fucked his code up to badly that he couldn’t sleep. 

He pulled the sleeping pills Awashima had given him that morning in hopes it would help his insomnia. It wouldn’t. The a pill couldn’t fix his malicious malware. Saruhiko rolled the bottle between his fingers in deep yet empty thought. Maybe one wouldn’t. 

But twenty probably could.

— 

Saruhiko blinked awake, lifting his face off the keyboard. He lazily woke up the screen to reveal that it was Monday, February 28th.

5:43 A.M.

What the fuck.


End file.
